The Death of Thomas Hutt

Thomas sat staring at a letter illuminated by a dim table lamp, waves crashing against the rocks above. He sat alone in the basement of his two-story home; it was dark and had little light, mostly bare except for the splintered wooden coffin stuffed with a soft single mattress and a human sized cage that lay empty and bloody in the corner of the cold concrete room. 

‘I will dash myself against the rocks soon.’ Thomas muttered to himself. A cliché death it was, but what a classic way to go, Thomas thought. He took some time before standing up.

‘Well, no time like the present.’ 

Thomas was quite some distance from town, his home sat close to a cliff's edge, and the only way to get mail sent was to put it in a box and set it out the front of the home. The postal service would collect any letters left in the mailbox or outside the front door, but it only came every few months. So, he figured nobody would hear of his disappearance or death for some time. 

Thomas was a rather average-looking young man. He had long wavy hair, his eyes were nothing spectacular; they were just an average dark brown colour, and his face was like that of an oval, a little round but not fat or chubby. His clothing was nothing extraordinary either, consisting of brown chinos cuffed at the bottom, a plain black tee, a dark blue knitted sweater and black loafers. The only thing that was even remotely interesting about Thomas was his long, sharp fangs. 

Thomas made his way upstairs past the bloody cage and up a set of concrete stairs, walking past mirrors, though he wasn’t sure why he kept them. He no longer had a reflection; perhaps he hoped he would one day be able to see himself again. That would not be possible in this life, he thought. 

***

Elizabeth wasn’t exactly the damsel in distress type. 

She often prowled the streets at night, lurking in alleyways, bars and darkened streets, tempting men to try something. Elizabeth was fiery like the sun, beautiful, and radiant. A sight you want to drink in, but looking too long was dangerous. Her hair was as fair as the horizon, her face pale and full of freckles, and her eyes were irises that sparkled like a nuclear bloom. She could eat any man alive with just a glance. 

Elizabeth spent this night like any other, equipped with her trusty dagger which she used to bleed many of her victims. She walks the same dark street, cobbled stone and low light lined the walkway. The area of New London used to be bestrewed with busy shop fronts that bustled with the noisy bickering of people bartering on the price of bread, or a piece of wool from the tailors. It was positively brimming with community but ever since a new Mayor was elected a few months back, things took a turn for the worse.

The new Mayor had been rather relaxed on crime. Because these things had gotten out of control, women had been attacked on the streets almost every night since he had taken over. So, women like Elizabeth had taken matters into their own hands. Elizabeth thought she heard something rustling in a laneway, so she stalked down, creeping slowly so as not to spook whatever it was. She reached into her waist, pulling out her dagger; the dagger was a little scratched and rusted but it did the trick and who cared if rapists and paedophiles died of tetanus anyway?

‘Hello, is anybody there?’ called out Elizabeth. Not a peep made its way back; the rustling continued. As Elizabeth got closer to the sound she saw something strange, it looked like a man biting another man in a peculiar spot. 

‘Sir! What exactly are you doing?’ Startled and a little confused, Elizabeth stepped back upon realising what was happening. 

‘Oh my gosh! Sir, have you no decency! Get a room if you are going to engage in this type of behaviour.’ Elizabeth was aghast! The man looked up, wiping the blood from his mouth. His eyes went wide. 

‘W—w—wait! Hold on, this is not what it looks like,’ the man stammered. ‘I haven’t eaten in weeks, and this is the first man of pristine blood I have found in a long time.’ 

Elizabeth was again bewildered; she drew a dagger as the man edged towards her. 

‘Ah, so sorry, I should introduce myself. I am Thomas Hutt, a vampire, good lady.’ 

A vampire, Elizabeth thought. What a strange and peculiar young man. Why would he tell me this? 

‘Are you a vampire? What a strange little man you are, Thomas Hutt.’ Thomas’s eyes gleamed with delight. He seemed positively infatuated with Elizabeth; he had to have her. 

‘Yes, my darling. Normally, I would never tell anybody this, but you are quite the catch.’ 

‘Catch?’ questioned Elizabeth. Thomas continued walking toward her until he was in her face. Elizabeth let loose her dagger, catching him in the stomach, but Thomas didn’t budge; he took a step back.

‘You really should have aimed for my heart, darling, ’ Thomas smiled, pulling the dagger out, fingering the fresh wound and sucking on his fingers. 

‘You won’t get away with this!’ screamed Elizabeth.

‘Oh, but dear, I already have.’ Elizabeth found her vision blurring; the last thing she saw was Thomas’s eyes glowing a strange shade.

***

Elizabeth awoke standing in a cage. She was dizzy and trembling, the walls were cold and there wasn’t much in the way of furniture, only a coffin, some lab equipment, and an old desk and chair. 

‘Ah! There she is, finally awake!’ Thomas spoke, delighted. ‘I had heard tales of the woman with the glowing eyes. You have to be of pure blood.’ 

‘What do you want from me?’ 

Thomas sat at his desk, humming an out-of-tune song she didn’t recognise. The cage was unlocked, Elizabeth scrunched up her face, it made no sense as to why her cage was unlocked. Surely a trap, she thought. She pushed open the cage as slowly as she could to minimise the creaking. Thomas sat writing at his desk, Elizabeth was vulnerable, she didn’t have her dagger, and she was half-naked. She needed to kill this man though—this she knew. He was too dangerous to be kept alive. 

Elizabeth made her way through a mostly empty home, mirrors covered. Oddly, she found her dagger sitting beside a letter telling her to meet Thomas at the cliff line. Elizabeth rushed as quickly as she could. When she made it, there standing on the precipice was Thomas, looking pale and staring at the sky. 

‘Do you know the play King Lear, my dear?’ asked Thomas. 

‘I can’t say that I do.’ 

‘Allow me to enlighten you with a quote, then. “When we are born, we cry that we come to this great stage of fools.” King Lear, Act 4 Scene 5.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Elizabeth, dagger at her side.

‘It can mean a great many things. To me it’s about how fucking absurd my life is. I was born a vampire—a vampire for fuck sakes,’ he continued his monologue. 

‘You think your life’s weird, imagine being born a goddamn vampire. It isn’t like the books… we, or as far as I am aware, just me, have to drink certain blood types, they aren’t all nutritious.’ Elizabeth had so many questions.

‘I don’t understand, why kidnap me? Why leave the cage open?’ 

‘Perhaps that’s you glimpsing the absurdity of my life, or maybe it was never locked. I am a walking, talking contradiction, darling.’ Thomas closed his eyes, sniffing the air. 

‘Perhaps I wanted you to bear witness to my death. For I cannot take this life nor the fools it abides any longer,’ Thomas continued.

‘Life is a fool's journey, my dear, full of toil, foolishness and lunacy.’ Thomas took a final deep breath before taking a step.

End.

***

‘That story made no sense, Grandpa. What was the point?’ A young boy sat around a campfire roasting marshmallows and questioned an older gentleman. 

‘What didn’t you get?’ asked the older man. 

‘The whole thing, why did he kidnap her? Why did he tell her he was a vampire? Why did he write her a letter and who was the letter for?’ The boy raised an eyebrow.

‘Did you not listen at the end? There is no meaning. Life is strange, odd and weird; it makes no sense. That is the meaning.’ The older man said, raising a toasted marshmallow to his lips. 

‘What a stupid story!’ exclaimed the young boy. 

‘Time for bed, and for goodness’ sake! Stay off your phone, the damned device is full of idiots that spout nonsense.’

Writer: Lachlan Malden

Editor: Teagan Marsh